What's in a Word?
by Gryffindor010697
Summary: This monthlong project takes moments across the timeline of Harry Potter from the Marauder's to the next generation. Each moment is based around a word of the day, provided by Merriam-Webster. Enjoy and be brutally honest in the comments!
1. Exordium

**Exordium: the beginning of anything**

**November 30, 1970**

The twenty-one year old witch had never been so exhausted. She had once weeded her mother's whole garden (it was the size of half a Quidditch pitch) and she hadn't felt like this afterward. But really, she mustn't complain. The tiresome task that befell her only hours previous was one of great love. She had given birth to a child after all and what can be more loving than that?

She hadn't seen her child since she gave birth to him at about 11:45 that previous night. Arthur had seen him and he described him perfectly. He had a headful of bright red hair, which was no surprise to the new mommy. She had red hair and so did her husband, though his was more of a soft orange. They had named him William Arthur, after Arthur's brother and Arthur himself. His eyes were a nice shade of blue, not unlike the sky, Arthur had observed.

"Here he is," came a voice form the doorway. Arthur walked into the hospital room carrying a blue bundle. Molly sat up, perhaps too suddenly, and she winced in pain. Arthur, noticing her discomfort, pulled up a chair beside his wife. He sat, baby still cradled in his arms. He handed the bundle over to his wife.

Arthur had never seen Molly smile as broadly as she did when she first set eyes on William Arthur. Her brown eyes lit up and her fiery hair seemed to glow like embers as she looked upon her beautiful son.

"He's so beautiful," she said. She shifted the baby to her left arm, never taking her eyes off of him, "He looks nothing like me, Arthur. He is all you. Well you and Cedrella. He has her eyes."

"He has your nose Molly," he said, gently placing his fingertip on the baby's nose. The observation made Molly smile. He sure did. She looked into William's searching eyes and she swore she had a premonition.

Molly saw their son getting on a train to Hogwarts and graduating from Hogwarts. She saw him meeting a nice girl and getting married. She saw his children, her grandchildren. She would be an old grey-haired lady surrounded by her children (she wanted at least three) and their children, and their children. William was only the beginning of the Weasley Clan.


	2. Advert

**Advert: (1) to remark or comment; refer (2) to turn the attention… I'm using the second one.**

**January 6, 2009**

"Happy birthday, Roxy!" the group of adults yelled. Roxy, who quite fancied being the center of attention, clapped her hands and smiled at her family who had shown up to the party. There were her parents, her mother holding the cake and her father taking a picture. She saw her godmother, Audrey, who was holding Molly on her hip. There were other redheaded family members, but Roxy didn't care to single them out because, as we said earlier, her mother was holding a cake.

The frosting was pink ad white and the ornament was nice bow in the corner. Roxy didn't like the girlishness of it and she would have turned her nose up at it… that is if it wasn't cake. She made a move to claw at it as her mother caught her hand. There were laughs all around and Roxy could not see what was funny. She only wanted to eat it!

Then her mom brought out a knife and then Roxy understood. Other people wanted some too. Well she didn't like that one bit and she made her mother aware of it. She began to cry. There were 'awws' and Roxy liked that she was, again the center of attention. Angelina coddled her and shushed her until she cut the cake, giving Roxy the biggest slice.

Contented, Roxy sat at the table and ate as everyone else got their piece. She looked around for her brother to make sure his piece was smaller than hers. She searched until she found the mass of curls that was forty-five percent of her brother's body. He was on the stairs and he was doing something that, even Roxy knew, was naughty.

"Daddy! Look what I can do!" Fred yelled as he made it to the top of the banister. George turned his head to find his son on the top of the banister of the stairs. George was horrified and he got his wand out just as the boy jumped. But before he could cast anything, the boy floated to the ground, unharmed. He had moved very slowly and George looked around to see who else had their wand out. Angelina and Hermione each were prepared to magically catch the young boy.

Everyone, except Roxy, ran over to Fred. He was sitting on the floor and he was maniacally laughing. Angelina gave him a once-over to make sure he hadn't hurt himself.

"Don't ever do that again!" George scolded. He taped his son on his behind and Fred looked confused.

With tears in his eyes he asked, "But, Daddy, I did magic."

George looked at his son's expression and he melted, "Good job, Freddie, but if you do magic again, do it with my or your mommy's permission. Okay?"

He nodded, stood up, and ran back to his piece of cake.

* * *

Roxy was furious. She liked the attention she was getting very much and her brother took it all. She watched as he got a spanking and then she watched him almost cry. Her father's face softened and he was no longer mad. But Roxy still was. She looked on as her brother run back to his slice of cake and (How annoying!) it was just as big as hers.

She began to cry again.


	3. Violescent

**Violescent: tending to a violet color**

**September 17, 2008**

It was late, how late, Teddy was not sure. His grandmother had put him to bed about two hours ago but he found himself unable to sleep. The whole day had been depressing. His grandmother had been sullen all day and Teddy had no idea why.

It happened every year, around this time. He would have to wake his grandmother up, as she would stay in bed until she _had _to get up. She would make an uninspired breakfast and Teddy would pick around at it. She wouldn't eat; just sit at the table to make sure he ate, while nursing a cup of coffee. She would usually call his Uncle Harry to come pick him up. Harry would arrive with a sad look on his face and take him to his house, where at least he could play with James and Al.

But this year was different, Harry was off on a mission and Ginny was sick. In fact, her kids were at the Burrow. So Teddy sat in his room all day. He knew his grandmother was sad, but he didn't know what to do about it. After dinner, Teddy decided to read a book, because after all, he didn't read that often and his Aunt Hermione always gave him books that he never read so he had a huge choice. He grabbed a copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_, which was thick but it held a bunch of small stories, which was right up his alley.

He laid the book on his bed and when he opened it, a smaller book fell out from the middle. It was a little old and bound in brown leather. He opened it, Beedle the Bard no longer striking his interest. At the beginning of the book was a picture of a much younger Andromeda Black and a man, Teddy recognized as his grandfather and namesake, Ted Tonks. They were very young and Andromeda's head donned a white veil. Otherwise she wore a plain yellow dress and he wore some vey old (and very ugly) dress robes. Under the picture, in Andromeda's notable messy yet beautiful scrawl, read 'Ted and I, 9-17-70, just married'. Teddy smiled at the picture and the date struck him as familiar. He got up from the bed and looked on his Chudley Cannon's calendar Ron had gotten him on his previous birthday. Today was September 17. 9-17.

It all made sense then. It was His Grandmother's anniversary. She acted like this every year and now he knew why. Teddy found himself very sad also. He walked back over to the book, which he supposed was a family album. He heard footsteps and he quickly tucked the book under his pillow.

"Goodnight, Teddy," Andromeda said as she bent down to kiss her grandson on the head. She tucked him into the covers and he started to say something about his grandpa, but decided against it. He couldn't handle seeing his grandmother cry.

"Goodnight, Nana," Teddy said. He got on his knees on the bed and caught his grandmother before she could lean up. He hugged her tightly around the neck and gave her a kiss on her cheek, "I love you!" he said.

He lied back down and noticed that's she smiled, which is what he was aiming for.

She magically extinguished the light in his room, besides the one on his bedside table, and she left him by himself. Teddy quickly took back out the book and got up to put it back in its original hiding place. Just as he reached his chair, where the book sat, a picture from the album floated out a landed on the floor. He put the album up and took the picture back to his bed to get a better look at it.

It was of a girl, no older than he was. She had violet, almost pink, ponytails, and she was hugging his grandmother around her waist. His grandma looked older than in the previous picture and younger that she did now. She looked very familiar and he turned the picture around, searching for identification. There again, he found his grandmother's writing. It read, 'Nymphadora and I on her ninth birthday, 9-17-82'.

There again was that date. September 17th. And Nymphadora was a name he heard not often enough but he knew it was his mother. His grandmother never talked about her and the only one that really talked about her to him was his Aunt Ginny, but she always called her Tonks, never Nymphadora. But he had been to the memorial sight at Hogwarts with Harry and he had pointed out his parents. He remembered the day perfectly. The stone said, among other names and ages, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, age 24 and then there was Remus John Lupin, age 38. His parents. And today was his mother's birthday, her thirty-fourth birthday.

He stared at the picture for hours, trying the find similarities in his face and his mother's. They had the same nose, he noticed as he looked at the mirror on his nightstand. Then he took a second look in the mirror. His hair was the same violet as his mother's was in the picture. He smiled. Of course it would be. Teddy placed the picture under his pillow and he settled into sleep. Before the sleep overtook him, he said, "Happy birthday, mum."


	4. Couthie

**Couthie: agreeable; genial; kindly**

**September 1, 1971**

Lily was admittedly a little nervous. She had gotten on the train and she hurried to get a compartment so her parents could see her off. She found a compartment near the front of the train and she stuck her head out of the window. She spotted her mother's strawberry blonde hair very quickly. Her father spotted her first though. He was a tall, graying man, so to see him light up and wave feverishly was certainly a sight. Lily giggled as the train began moving. She searched for Petunia and she finally found her. Her brown haired head was turned and her arms were crossed. She was purposefully looking away from the train.

Lily felt a tear form in her eye. She no longer cared to look out of the window. She sat down and-

"AHH!" she yelled. She slid off of the bench and landed on the floor. She looked up into the face of the boy who had startled her in the first place. His face was a tad sunken in and his skin a sallow pale color. His long hair was now shoulder length.

"Severus! I haven't seen you all summer!" Lily said. She grabbed her friend and pulled him into a tight bear hug. Snape, loving every moment of the embrace, was slightly uncomfortable at the show of affection. He patted her back and she soon let go.

"My… mum wouldn't let me come out," Severus said. He flipped his hair and sat on the bench opposite of Lily.

"Well that's horrible, isn't it? You look awfully pale. Didn't you go outside at all?" Lily asked.

"There wasn't a point if I couldn't see-," he whispered until his voice died down.

"Huh?" Lily asked. Just then the train door burst open.

"Hello," another first-year boy said as he walked into the compartment. Another boy followed him. They both had dark hair, although the lead boy's was noticeably shorter and it was untidy toward the top. Lily fought the urge to brush it.

"I noticed that you were sitting here all alone and my mate, Sirius and I, say 'hi' Sirius," he pointed at the longer haired boy who seemed to have just noticed Severus. He winked at Lily.

"I'm not by myself," Lily said. She looked pointedly at Severus.

"Yeah… I'm… I'm here," he said.

"Oh, that's nice," he said, not taking his eye off of Lily. She was feeling pretty violated by his stare.

"Well, you're rude, aren't you?" Lily said. She was a tad annoyed.

"Not, usually," the boy said, "What's your name?"

Lily didn't know whether to answer, "I'm Lily. That's Severus, and you two are interrupting."

The boy let out a peal of laughter that threw Lily off-guard. His soft nice laughter didn't fit his seemingly demanding personality.

"Who's rude now?" he asked, "C'mon Sirius, let's let Snivellus and Lily have their alone time," he said.

"It's Severus," Severus corrected, almost undetectably.

The boy walked out, not acknowledging the correction.

**Yes, yes, I know Lily was more passive-aggressive in this one than she was nice, but when I saw this word I **_**had**_** to write about Lily. **


	5. Aumildar

**Aumildar: (1) a manager or agent. (2) a collector of revenue... Again, I'm going with two**

**May 12, 2035**

He was a banker. Nothing spectacular. He Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron every morning at about six thirty-two. He would walk to Gringrotts, after making a stop at Florean Fortescue's for some coffee. He would get on the elevator and go up to the fourth floor and sit at his desk.

He would do banker-like things, managing accounts, setting up appointments, opening up savings vaults, the usual. After a nine hour work day, he would walk to the Cauldron, have a Butterbeer and chat with Ally Longbottom, one of his ex-girlfriends from school who helped run the Leaky Cauldron. He'd tip her a little extra, in an especially non-flirty way, and Apparate to his house.

That was a normal day for Louis Weasley, and until that point, where he placed his wand on the door to unlock it, his day was quite normal. He opened his front door to be greeted with sounds of pure pain. Fearing the worse, Louis took the stairs four at a time and catapulted into the bedroom.

He found his wife, Lynette, on the bed, sweating and swearing. Her pregnant stomach was covered in a sheet and her legs were propped up on pillows. Out of the adjoining bathroom came Molly Weasley. His grandmother, not his cousin. She walked over to her granddaughter-in-law and dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth.

"Finally you get here," Molly said. She was holding Lynn's hand.

"I just got off about thirty minutes ago," Louis said. He had walked over to his wife and was gripping her hand.

"What are you doing her grandma? Where's mum?" he asked. Fleur was supposed to be here with his ready-to-pop wife.

"Your mother had to go. Lucy had a baby appointment and she didn't want to go alone."

Lynn began to yell again and Louis kissed her forehead and she let out a string off words that he felt inappropriate to be said in front of his grandmother.

"Sorry, grandma," Lynette said as she finished telling her husband how much of an ass he was for doing this to her.

"It's okay, darling. It's all his fault," she said. Louis found this unfair but said nothing. One witch having contractions and another who was annoyed could equal the death of Louis. And he liked living.

"You should've heard what I called Arthur while I was having Fred and George. Oh and when I started having contractions with Bill, I singed a hole in his shirt with my wand because he was taking his sweet time getting me to the hospital," Molly sadly giggled. Whenever she talked about her ten-years deceased husband, she usually got sad and sullen.

"He's coming!" Lynn yelled.

"Yes, he is," Molly said. She lifted the sheet that concealed… the baby chute.

Five insult filled minutes later, Parker Louis Weasley was born.

Louis stared into his green eyes, eyes he shared with his mother. He had tufts of blond hair and his nose looked very much like his own. He figured he would be skipping his daily trips to the Cauldron to get home earlier from now on.


	6. Acclimate

**Acclimate****: to accustom or become accustomed to a new climate, environment, or situation**

**July 1, 1976**

Sirius awoke to find himself in a nice, comfortable bed. The one in his old room was more of an antique artifact than it was a comfortable place to slumber.

Sirius sat up and was instantly hit in the face by a wall of delicious. He knew his room was the closest to the kitchen (something he was sure Mrs. Potter did due to his love of eating) so he figured breakfast was in the process of being made. He threw on a robe over his underpants and made the short trek to the kitchen.

Sirius rounded the corner to find Mr. Potter reading the _Prophet_. The front page of the Society section read "Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange Marry!" Sirius rolled his eyes as he sat in front of Mr. Potter.

"How'd you sleep, Sirius?" Harold Potter asked.

"Great!" Sirius said.

"That's good dear," came a voice from the adjoining kitchen. Sirius turned to find Andorra Potter walking from the kitchen; her kind hazel eyes smiling as she magically lifted the plateful of Scottish pancakes on the table. He had only eaten them once before when Kreacher had made them and he was sure that Kreacher had spit in his.

Speaking of Kreacher, Sirius asked, "Don't you guys have house-elves?" Sirius asked. He knew that the Potters were just as rich, if not richer, than his family and house-elves were a wealthy family's usual first purchase.

"Yes, but I like cooking occasionally. Nothing like a little love in the cooking," Mrs. Potter said as she sat at the table.

The pancakes magically served themselves as the older couple chatted. Mr. Potter said something about his brother Charlus and his wife (and Sirius's great aunt), Dorea going to the Canaries for their anniversary.

Just then James walked in, or rather, shuffled in. He sat, helped himself to a sizeable stack of pancakes and joined in on his parents' conversation. Sirius was invited in and he smiled to himself. Breakfasts at 12 Grimmauld Place were infrequent (only when relatives and the occasional Ministry worker was over) and when they were in session they were usually quiet for him. Regulus would go on and on about himself and his parents would fawn over him and Sirius would sit, eat, and leave.

He would like it here, once he got used to talking with his mouthful of pancake.


	7. Stentorian

**Stentorian****: extremely loud**

**December 25, 2025**

The whole family hadn't been together for a while. In fact, their last get together was before Arthur had passed two years previous. The family had grown since she had last seen everyone and for the first time, the Burrow wasn't big enough to accommodate the whole Weasley Family. More grandchildren had married and more great-grandchildren had been born.

Molly Weasley sat in the armchair nearest the Christmas tree, her flyaway white hair tamed into a tight bun near the crown of her head. She had a blanket over her legs and a mug of hot tea on the table beside her. The whole clan had gathered at George and Angelina's spacious mansion on the outskirts of Puddlemere which he had had built when Weasley's Wizard Wheezes began to do very well. Everyone had just eaten breakfast together in the large garden in the back of the house and they had all gathered in the great room to open presents.

Molly could hardly hear herself think due t the muttering, cries of joy over presents and shouted thank-yous to cousins and aunts and uncles. A twenty-one year old James held up a broomstick, one of which Molly didn't know the model. He beamed as he hugged his father. George hooked a diamond necklace around the neck of his wife. Even with her dulled eyesight, Molly could see the silver chain that contained four glittering diamonds set on the chain itself. She could only assume each one stood for a member of their family. The matriarch was interrupted from her gazing by a small voice.

"Nana," the voice said.

Molly looked in front of her to find young Lucy Weasley. Her red hair was in pigtails and her freckle-less face was split into a smile that contained numerous holes where teeth should have been.

"Yes, Nana's baby?" Molly asked. She patted her lap and the six-year old clamored up onto the chair with her grandmother. Molly had just noticed the box in her hand.

"Here ya go," she said as she handed the box over to Molly. It was rudimentarily wrapped in golden tin wrapping and the folds were held together with Spell-o-tape. Molly gently unfolded the rather flat package and the gift made her gasp.

Molly held the gift up in her hand. It was a picture frame. Lucy herself had painted the frame in numerous colors. But the paint job was not what Molly focused the most on. On the sides, face, and back of the frame were signatures. Small, they were, and nearly illegible, but Molly could still read them. There was Bill's name, and Hermione's. Then she saw Fleur's beautiful script, just above Harry's untidy one. Audrey's name was neatly printed in the corner and it had a heart beside it. She even saw the grandchildren's names. There was noticeable empty space on the back of the frame, presumably to fit the signatures of future Weasleys.

Tears rolled from Molly's eyes and she noticed the loud rumble of voices had stopped. She looked up to find everyone staring at her. Most were smiling and some of the crying-prone women were dabbing their eyes. Everyone clapped and Molly looked around at all of the faces. She saw Arthur in each one and where she couldn't quite find Arthur, she found herself. She saw the red hair and the freckles. She saw the long, gangly frames, and the short stocky ones. She saw Weasleys. And as every one hugged her and wished her a happy Christmas and continued to open their own gifts, she found that the commotion and noise was welcome.

Oh and by the way, inside of the picture frame, was a photo of Molly and Arthur (each no more than eighteen yeas old) taken by Fabian soon after they were married. The two were hugging each other outside of a much smaller, one floor Burrow. That picture in that frame sat beside Molly on her bedside table for the rest of her life.


	8. Expeditious

**Expeditious:**** characterized by speed and efficiency**

**February 15, 2004**

The wind whipped past his face and pulled water from his eyes. He had to be going eighty miles an hour and he knew the Firebolt could take him much faster.

He squinted through his glasses (which had taken up some condensation) ahead to the shimmering air in front of him. It was Ginny. The Disillusionment Charm was working perfectly as he could just see the outline of his wife's back.

It was Ginny's idea to this. Harry had just gotten out of the hospital three weeks previous and the Mediwitch had said 'No broomriding for at least a month' but Ginny noticed how stressed and stir crazy Harry had been.

* * *

"Get up," she had said as she handed him a deep red cloak. She then went on to tap her wand on his head and he felt the familiar feeling of a raw egg being cracked on his head.

Catching on, Harry said, "You know what Dr. Keller said."

"I know what he said, but you're a little crazy and quite frankly your pouting is annoying, dear," she said. At this point, they were out on the back porch and Ginny had her broom in her left hand and Harry's in the other.

"James is at the Burrow and I'm on maternity leave for another week so hop on the bleeding broom, make me invisible and let's go," Ginny said.

"Yes ma'am," Harry said with a sly smile.

* * *

So here they were, flying over Godric's Hollow and surrounding towns, invisible and having a blast.

"If I faint from the high altitude-," Harry said as he caught up with his wife who was, to his chagrin, slightly faster than him.

"You'll fall to the ground below a happy, entertained man," Ginny giggled.

"Besides," Ginny added, "you wouldn't be fainting-prone if you could dodge curses better." She laughed and sped up, leaving Harry in her metaphorical dust.

"God, I love that woman," Harry said. He lowered his torso along the broom and pulled the Firebolt forward.

**I know this one was really short and I'm sorry! I'll make tomorrow's longer... hopefully. Review and PM me for questions! **


	9. Proselytize

**Proselytize****: to convert (someone) to another religion, belief, etc.**

**July 27, 2022**

"What do you _mean _you are dating James Potter?" Blayne asked. He was pacing in front of Ivy as she sat at the foot of her bed.

"Hush up, I don't want Father to hear," Ivy said. She stood and closed her door.

"He needs to," Blayne said, "your dating a-,"

"Wonderful guy who loves me," Ivy said.

"Bullshit," Blayne said.

"No, just because you are trying to please _them _by marrying some girl who's only redeeming quality is that she's a pure-blood, doesn't mean I can't be with someone because we love each other."

"So you're a blood traitor now?" Blayne halfway asked, halfway stated.

"What the hell is a blood traitor, Blayne?" Ivy asked. She was near yelling and she had to remind herself to quiet down.

"Someone who turns their back on their heritage and family in favor of a Mudblood or another blood traitor," Blayne retorted, almost robotically.

"James knows he's a Pureblood but he doesn't harp on it like some people do," Ivy defended.

"Dad always sad you'd marry down. Ever since you started hanging out with Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors," Blayne said, "What happened to you?"

"I wised up to the world. The world isn't Purebloods versus everyone else anymore, Blayne. And Muggle-borns aren't any less magical than we are. Freaking Hermione Granger is a better witch than mom ever was," Ivy said, and she instantly regretted it.

"What did you say?" came a voice from the doorway.

Ivy turned to find her father, wand raised, coming in through the doorway.

"I'm sor-,"

"Shut up," Blaise said. He flourished his wand and his daughter was sent backward onto her bed. She gripped her wand on her nightstand.

"You are no daughter of mine," Blaise said, "and anyone who compares my wife to a filthy Mudblood will have to deal with me."

He slashed his wand and just as Ivy raised hers. The spell bounced off the charm and hit the wall, creating a gash in it.

"Dad," Ivy started.

"I will NOT be a blood traitor's father. Get out," Blaise said. Blayne stood on the sidelines, jaw slack and eyes brimming with tears. He was afraid for his sister.

"GET OUT! I said," Blaise yelled.

Without hesitation, Ivy stood up from the bed, gave a final tearful look at her brother, and turned on her heel to Apparate.

* * *

"And he said," Ivy said between sobs, "that I wasn't his daughter."

James's shirt was soaked. She had been crying on his chest for the past hour, ever since she showed up at the Potter's doorstep. Ginny had made her tea and Harry had patted her back as comfortingly as a forty-two year old man could a nineteen-year old girl.

They had wound up in James's room (door open) and she had told him the whole story.

"Fuck him," James said.

"Whoa!" Ginny yelled from her room that was across the hall from James's.

"Sorry, ma," James said, "Screw him," he whispered.

"He's my dad, James. I just got kicked out of the house that I've lived in my whole life. I've been disowned and, I'm sure by now disinherited. I'm sure he told my mum about the Hermione comment and she's gonna hate me, too. James, I don't have anywhere to go."

James thought for a second, "Mum, can you come in here," he yelled. Ivy was confused. Ginny stood in the doorway.

"I'm sure you've been listening because, let's just face it, you're nosy. So I know you heard about Ivy's predicament. All of her relatives are pureblood elitists so she has nowhere to go. Can she sleep in the guest room?" James asked.

"Of course," Ginny said, "But if I see so much as a long hug between the two of you, James, you will be getting the boot and Ivy will have your room. No sex," she said. Then she walked over to the bed and offered her arms to Ivy. The two hugged and she said, "Welcome to the Potters."

"Thanks, Mrs. Potter," Ivy said through her sobs.

"No problem sweetie," she said as she walked out. She closed the door behind her. A moment later she backtracked, opened the door and said, "No sex!"

The two laughed and James said, low enough for only Ivy to hear, "I'm getting my own flat next month."

"Good!" Ginny yelled.

Ivy laughed and James said, "She gets her hearing from my grams."


	10. Equable

**Equable: (1) equal and uniform; not varying (2) not easily disturbed; not variable or changing... I like (2) better.**

**November 3, 2013**

Snores echoed throughout the Burrow's family room. The two mischievous boys weren't put off by the noise though. They knew the routine. Molly would serve afternoon tea just as Arthur got off of work. He would eat, tell her (and whatever company was around) about his day and then retire to the plush couch in the family room where he would 'just rest his eyes for a moment'. The eye resting would extend to an hour-long nap where he would wake the dead with his snore. And it was near impossible to wake him up.

Yes, the boys knew the routine well. They were ready when he laid his head onto the armrest of the couch. His mouth was gaped open and emitting whale calls about three minutes into the siesta.

"You got it?" James asked his cousin.

Fred nodded his bushy head and tapped his pocket.

"Let's do it," Fred said, with a sly smile.

The two nine-year-olds belly-crawled over to the couch. They knew their grandmother was outside, probably weeding the garden, but they took extra precautions.

As they reached their destination, the two boys slowly rose to crouching position, careful not to wake the slumbering man. Fred reached into his pocket and extracted a packet of something that looked very much like sugar you would put in your tea. He handed it to James who tore it open and dumped its contents into Arthur's mouth.

The boys hightailed it for cover as Arthur, still asleep, smacked his mouth and swallowed. Fred and James ended up in the stairwell, where they could see Arthur but he couldn't see them. Then they waited.

* * *

The boys had forgotten all about the prank and were taunting with a gnome in the garden when they heard the scream.

"BOYS!" came a unison cry from both of their grandparents. The boys looked at each other with amusement.

* * *

It was really hard to take their grandfather seriously as he yelled at them until he was blue in the face. Literally. He was blue everywhere thanks to Weasley's Sapphire-Skin Sugar.

But the prank got its intended effect. Arthur Weasley now took his afternoon naps in his room. With the door shut.

* * *

**I know I skipped Friday's story, but it was a necessary evil. So is AP United States History, which was the reason I didn't get around to writing yesterday (Summer Project). But I made up for it today! Also I know these 'ficlets' have been very Weasley-centered and I don't know if that is a good or bad thing. Would you all like me to write about other families/wizards too? I'm here to serve (writing only, don't be gross). Review or PM me for any ideas. Oh, and thanks for reading ;).**


	11. Sacrosanct

**Sacrosanct****: sacred; inviolable**

**July 8, 1899**

Albus lounged in a hammock that was constructed by himself and Aberforth as a way to draw Ariana out of the house. Of course, it didn't work, as she preferred sitting in her room, reading.

On his stomach lay a much-worn copy of _Tales of Beedle the Bard_. The newly eighteen-year old opened the book to _The Tale of The Three Brothers_. He had read the story numerous times before and, before he could read, his mother had read it to him. He began, reading aloud: "There were once three brothers, who were traveling along…"

"_The Tale of Three Brothers, _eh?" came a voice, just behind Albus. He jumped, allowing the hammock to leave him and to the earth below he fell.

The owner of the disembodied voice made his way over to help Albus up to his feet. Albus looked to thank the cause of his fall and was surprised to find that the man was taller than he was (and Albus was easily six feet tall, though he had never been measured). He wasn't thin, nor was he fat and his blonde hair was swept back onto his head, allowing his deep green eyes to sparkle.

"Err, thanks," Albus said as he ran a hand through his own auburn hair, suddenly wishing he had combed it before retreating outside.

"No problem," the boy said with an accent that Albus couldn't quite place, maybe Hungarian. He held out his hand, "Gellert Grindelwald."

Albus shook it and said, "Albus Dumbledore." He then noticed his book, which was still lying on the ground.

"Damn," he said as he brushed the dirt off of his book and he sat on the hammock, careful not to tilt it.

"May I seet also? My feet ache from walking all day," he said. Albus patted the hammock next to him and he sat, "My aunt's house ees old and musty. I don't like eet there so I have been walking around all day."

"Who's your aunt?" Albus asked as he opened his book up to the correct page.

"Batheelda Bagshot," he answered already preoccupied by Albus's book, "I love that story," Gellert said as he reached for the book and Albus let him take it.

"Me too, my mother used to read it to me before I went to sleep," Albus said as his mind went back to that small house (it didn't seem that small then) in Mould-on-the-Wold.

"The actualeety of the story always eentigued me," he said.

"What actuality?" Albus asked. Some old codger had fabricated all of the stories in the book in the 1400s.

"Well the Elder Wand, the Cloak and the Stone. They are real," Gellert said.

"Well the cloaks are real but-," Albus started.

"No, Alboos, not cloaks, _the Cloak_. Yes there are those eemeetation cloaks but those wear off after some time. This cloak lasts forever."

Albus had decided that his new neighbor was delightfully imaginative and decided to let him explain, "And the other things?"

"The Deathly Hallows," Gellert corrected, "are still very much around. They are sacred and the wizard who owns all three will be considered the Master of Death."

Gellert gave this speech as he looked at the book, as if he were reciting, but Albus knew he wasn't. He found himself intrigued. "If they are around, where are they?"

"I'm not sure," Gellert said, "The wand, as you know, had a long history of many owners but no one knows where it is now. The Cloak has been lost since the 1700s and the Stone's been lost almost since the middle brother owned eet."

"Oh," was all Albus could say.

"I've baseecly made it my mission to find them, though," Gellert said matter-of-factly.

"Sounds like a fun, yet fruitless quest," Albus said in a very Albus-y way.

"Perhaps, but I plan on having fun doing eet," Gellert said.

Albus nodded just as a loud bang and a scream echoed from the house. The ground shook and Albus leapt from the hammock.

"I'll see you soon!" Albus yelled as he ran into his house to find Ariana crying, and his mother Kendra lying on the ground, her long dark hair fanned out around her.

* * *

**July 12, 1899**

Albus was sitting on the hammock as he had been sitting, what seemed like, so many years ago. He didn't have a book, nor did he particularly want one. He was content sitting there, not reading or feeling. But of course, that couldn't happen.

"Hi," came a voice from behind Albus.

He didn't jump this time as he expected (wanted?) Gellert to come over.

Albus nodded in response. Gellert sat, uninvited, by his new neighbor. He opened his mouth numerous times, like a fish that was eating. Deciding not to say anything, Gellert placed a hand on Albus's shoulder.

Albus flushed and then thought back to their previous conversation, "So about your quest: I want in," Albus said.

"Of course," Gellert assured.


	12. Indefatigable

**Indefatigable: untiring**

**May 30, 1984**

Molly hadn't sat down since five that morning. Ginny had run in the room just as Molly had woken up and was complaining of an achy tummy. Molly whipped up a whole pot of Pepperup Potion, as she was running low with all the colds that had been ailing her family.

After she sent Ginny back to bed, Ronald came crying to her with his finger outstretched. It was purple and the tint was creeping up his arm. "Fred! George! Here! NOW!" Molly yelled as she saw to her son's hand. She had no clue what they did to him. After half an hour of coaxing out exactly what potions they had fed their kid brother (half an hour in which Ron's shoulder had become an odd shade of violet). Molly whipped up yet another potion; this one smelled less like the warm, earthy smell of the Pepperup Potion and more like sweaty feet. It took Ron yet another half-hour to get the potion down without gagging. She sent her son back up to his room with the instructions, "If they ever give you anything to eat, drink, or to place anywhere near your body, say no."

Molly checked the watch Arthur had given to her for their fourteenth wedding anniversary. "Damn," she muttered as she realized that she was an hour behind on breakfast and breakfast had to be done quickly as Arthur's parents were coming over later on for dinner. She quickly got to work chopping (and set her spoon to stirring and the rag to washing with her wand) and breakfast was ready in no time. She chopped up Ginny and Ron's sausage and set it at their normal spots at the table and she called her brood to eat and, like usual, she was almost taken in by a stampede. Arthur had gone to pick his elderly parents up by way of magical taxi (Septimus had a strong distrust of the Floo Network having once ended up in Germany instead of at Madam Malkin's) so Molly put the thirteen year old Bill in charge of making sure no food fights broke out.

Molly made her way out to the garden with a bottle of Doxycide (it would have to do for the Gnomes) and a bucket for the weeds. After a couple of hours her rose bushes and tulips were beautiful and she made her way in side to find the kitchen table deserted of people but overflowing with dirty dishes. She had hoped Bill would wash them for her but he and Charlie had found a better way to pass time in a game of Wizard's Chess.

Washing the dishes went relatively quickly and she settled into an armchair in the living room listening to her boys play chess. Before her eyes could quite close, Percy was tugging on her sleeve.

"Yes, Percy dear?" she said.

"What's this word? Is it Ka-night?" he asked. She would've urged him to sound it out but it had a trick letter in it, "Knight," she said, "The 'k' is silent."

"Why?" Percy asked. Molly thought and answered, "Well I'm not sure dear. It just is. Just like in knife," she said.

"Oh," Percy said as he ambled off, nose in his book and glasses slowly sliding down his sloped nose. Molly had high hopes for that one. Of course she had high hopes for all of her children but she could see Percy being the Minister for Magic one day. Deciding not to take a nap, Molly propped open a novel of her own.

* * *

By the time she looked up, the sun was high in the sky and Charlie was standing in front of her.

"Mum, is it lunch yet?" he asked

"Yes, Charlie I'm getting up now," she said as she wiped a bit of dirt off of his nose.

Lunch went over much like dinner, except Molly actually ate this time. She began on dinner directly after lunch.

* * *

"And oh how Arthur talked about your mother all of the time when he was home," Cedrella Weasley told her grandchildren (three of which who actually cared about he story).

"Dad was lovesick," Bill said as Arthur grinned across the table at Molly.

"Sure was," he confirmed. Molly had just sat down to have a bite of the roast beef that she had prepared and she walked over to Ginny, ho was having a time eating a baby carrot. She sliced it up and got Septimus more lemonade.

Finally she sat just as the others were getting done. Fred and George asked to be excused first and the others followed suit. It was just the adults talking about the events of the world and such. This was just what Molly needed, adult conversation with people she loved.

Her in-laws spent the night and, with them both being in their early seventies, they retired to bed early. Arthur was tired from the journey to Mold-on-the-Wold get his parents here and he curled up in bed after kissing Molly on the forehead.

The mother of seven made her rounds, visiting her various be-freckled children as they said their prayers. She kissed each one on their forehead and tucked them all (except Bill) in.

Finally, at eleven thirty-four at night, Molly sat her wand on her bedside table. She imagined it just as tired as she was. She lay on her bed and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out. The indefatigable Molly Weasley was fatigued indeed.


	13. Gravid

**Dear my combined eight followers and favoriters (not a word, I know), **

**I have been absent. I am sorry. But I think you shall forgive me (if u cared at all that I wasn't posting) when I tell you: SIX CHAPTERS IN TWO DAYS! It's an arduous, daunting task but I accept it with grace.**

** Forgive the irregularity (blame AP US History),**

** Gryffindor010697**

**P.S.- This chapter will have 3 parts (4 if you count the introduction)**

* * *

**Gravid: pregnant**

**April 4, 2003**

Her knees no longer felt the need to support her so they didn't. Luckily, the toilet was there so she wouldn't break her ass on the tiled floor. The potion (which was now a pale blue, but blue indeed) sat on the rim of the sink.

So what did that blue mean? That pale, powder blue meant that there was a baby growing in Ginny's womb and she had absolutely no idea how to feel about it. But about three things she was certain. (1) Jessica was going to KILL her. (2) Molly was going to be furious (because of the whole not-being-married thing). (3) Harry was going to be nervously happy. She decided to go with the road of descending negativity, so she set off for Jessica's house.

**Jessica-**

Ginny had turned the speech over and over in her head to the point of memorization. She battled the butterflies in her stomach. She considered the flutters could be the baby but she quickly remembered that the baby wouldn't be moving for months. The flutters were due to the impending wrath of Jessica, the new, frightful captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Gwenog had retired the season previous as she was 'Quidditch Old' at the age of thirty-five. Jessica was a Chaser that Ginny had never cared for. She was a ruthless, horrible, bitchy person who was a wonderful strategist and ergo, making her a wonderful Quidditch captain.

The Harpies' next match wasn't until next week, so Ginny figured that Jessie would be in her house, planning and making plays. So when the door opened, she was surprised the find Jessica Chaplin in a skimpy blue dress, fastening a dangly earring into her left ear, it's right companion already in place.

"Oh, it's you, Weasley. Come in," Jessica said with a slight roll of her eyes. She led Ginny into her living room which was neat and nicely organized, which Ginny tried to focus on but she couldn't 'cause of the butterflies.

"You look nice," Ginny started as she sat onto a very comfortable sofa.

"Yes, I know. What have you made the trek to my house for? Yes, you are starting next week, if that's what you are asking."

"No. I don't think next week will be a problem," Ginny bit her lip.

"Good. So what do you want?" she asked. She had finally sat down after putting on a pair of high heels.

"I… um," Ginny said.

"Weasley, I have always liked you, yeah I know, weird right? But one of your redeeming qualities is that you speak your mind quickly and with ease. I would like it if you did that now."

"Ok. Well I'm pregnant," Ginny said. She tore the metaphorical Band-Aid off and the butterflies protested.

"Damn," Jessica said after two whole minutes of silence and unbroken eye contact.

There was another half minute of silence when Ginny realized the ball was in her court, "… and I thought you had a no-pregnancy, no-weddings, no-non-Quidditch injury policy."

"Mhmm." Jessica said.

"Well, aren't I like… fired?" Ginny asked.

"No. I need you. You're actually the best Chaser I've ever seen. And as you know, I don't give out compliments. So in ten months… Merlin that's damn near a whole year, you can come back, refreshed and renewed. But after your break, I expect you to be better than when you left," she said.

Ginny found it hilarious that Jessica considered it a break to push a being out of your body and then raise said crying being.

"Fair enough," Ginny said. She stood, not wanting to impose on Jessica anymore.

"Good, you are now effectively on maternity sabbatical from the Holyhead Harpies. May your Potter child be non-bespectacled and non-Ginger."

"Thanks?" Ginny said, wondering if she was just wished well or insulted.

**Molly-**

After that Jessica meeting, Ginny had high hopes of Molly not blowing an eye vessel when Ginny broke the news. She Apparated (which she wasn't supposed to do now that she was expecting) to the lane that led to the Burrow. She spent the walk thinking of what she would say.

Ginny walked into the Burrow to find Molly relaxing in the living room, reading a book.

"Ginny?!" Molly said as she almost ran over to her daughter. I wasn't expecting you until, well until the season was over."

Ginny suddenly felt bad that she didn't see her mother more often and she made a note to do so.

Molly waved her wand at the stove and a teapot began to gurgle. "Is everything okay?"

"Okay is a relative word. I'm fine, I think. But you might not be after this conversation," Ginny said.

Molly looked suddenly sober, "What's wrong?"

"I… um. I'm pregnant," Ginny said.

Molly looked at her, slack-jawed. She closed her mouth, stood and turned to the stove to pour the tea.

"Mum?" Ginny said.

Molly didn't turn around. She put the pot back on the stove and turned. She looked very angry, just as Ginny had expected her to.

"Mum, I-,"

"Ginevra, I am assuming you haven't gotten married in the month since I've last seen you."

"Correct," Ginny said through a tight throat.

"And I assume that you and Harry aren't even engaged, because you would, after all tell me if you were right?"

"I would," Ginny said. Her mother's face was enough to make Ginny cry.

"And I, again, assume that you and Harry are still living in different cities, he in London and you in Holyhead?" she continued.

"Yes, mum, but-,"

"No. You don't get to explain until I fully understand. You are a legally single Quidditch player who is pregnant by a man she hasn't even made the commitment to share a couch with. Correct?"

Ginny just nodded.

Molly stared at her daughter as she began to cry. Molly's face softened and she took her only daughter into her arms.

"Shh, shh. I know. I'm sorry, Ginny."

"I love him mum, what does marriage have to do with it?" Ginny asked.

Molly produced a clean rag from her apron and handed it to Ginny so she could wipe off her face.

"A marriage, Ginny, is a promise between two people. I find it more likely for a family to succeed if the parents are together."

"I understand," Ginny said, "But it's Harry, mum. He's not gonna run off when he hears the news. I understand you want us to get married, and we will. But with his job and my job, that's not the best thing to do right now. The planning, and the money, it's all too much."

Molly nodded thoughtfully, "I really didn't think about _who_ you were having the child with. He'd make a wonderful father." Molly said with a smile.

"That makes one good parent for my little girl," Ginny said.

"Girl!? You know already?! How many months are you?!" Molly cried.

"No, no mum, I don't know. I'm just hoping… for a girl," Ginny said, one hand on her solar plexus, where she imagined her baby to be.

"I don't know," Molly said, placing her hand on her daughter's stomach, "With Victoire and Dominique, I think a girl would be to much of a perfect triangle type thing. Just imagine the three of them running around, having tea parties. I think it's gonna be a boy."

"Are you saying that as the matriarch with the psychic baby powers or are you saying that because you want a grandson?" Ginny asked.

"A little of both."

**Harry-**

Ginny decided to Floo (which a pregnant woman was okay to do, although she might get nauseous) to the Ministry from the Burrow. Before she left, she timed it so that she would get there just as Harry would be getting off from work.

She stepped out of the fireplace and turned to walk into the Atrium. She checked her watch and she had thirty minutes until Harry got off, so she made her way down to the second level.

Ginny walked into the Auror office and searched for the mass of dark hair that would give away her husbands location. She dodged a flying memo that was headed to the other side of the room as she walked to Harry's cubicle.

Harry's back was turned and Ginny snuck up behind him. She placed her hands over his eyes.

Harry stiffened and then turned his head to the side, "Ron, if you are trying to annoy me again you have succeeded," Harry said.

Ron's head popped up from the cubicle across from Harry's, "What'd I- Oi it's Ginny!" Ron said as he laid eyes on his sister. He made his way over to Ginny.

"Ginny!" Harry said. He stood and kissed his girlfriend. She hugged him and got a nose full of his cologne, a smell she had missed for the past month.

"I was going to pop in next week and go to the match. What are you doing here?" Harry said.

Ginny was hugging Ron and she answered. "Well, I just wanted to go on a little date if that's not too much to ask of the famous Auror," Ginny teased as she poked her boyfriend.

"Well I'll have to cancel that other date I had, but I'll see what I can do," Harry said. Ginny poked him in the ribs harder and he winced.

"We can go now. I'm sure Robards would be fine with me getting off ten minutes early. It's been a slow day," Harry said as he got his coat.

* * *

The two sat in front of one another at a small café in London, a couple of blocks away from the Ministry.

Ginny, again thought of another speech to give Harry, but nothing seemed to work out in her head so she was kinda glad when Harry ordered their drinks.

"Two glasses of champagne," Harry said.

"No," Ginny said, more to the waiter than to Harry, "I'll take a Coke."

When the waiter walked away, Harry asked, "Oh no, does Jessica have you all on a alcohol purge or something?"

"Nope," Ginny said, pleased that she had found an easy way to tell Harry.

"Aw, now I have to be that prat drinking champagne by himself," he laughed as he stared at the menu.

"Oh, you'll be fine," Ginny said as she plucked up her courage, "You'll be fine when you find out the reason why I'm not drinking."

"Will I?" Harry questioned as she dropped the menu.

"Yup, you will. Because, you see Mr. Potter, in about nine months, you will be the father of one Master or Ms. Potter who will be hopefully un-bespectacled and non-redheaded."

"Funny," Harry laughed as he looked back at the menu. It took him a full minute to realize that Ginny had not picked back up her menu and she was still staring at him smiling.

"But," Harry said.

"Mhmm. Remember when I came home last month?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded and his face paled.

"And we didn't use a," Ginny trailed off.

Harry nodded and his mouth widened into smile.

"Well I'm pregnant," she concluded.

Harry jumped up and grabbed Ginny in his arms, squeezing her (not around the stomach).

They were drawing attention of passers-by when Harry turned to them all and said, "She's pregnant. By me!" Harry specified to the general public.

He hugged her some more and she laughed and then he sat and she did too. Then his face paled again. "Oh Merlin, which one of us is going to tell your mum?" he said. He knew Mrs. Weasley's stand on out-of-wedlock births.

"I already did. I told her right after I told Jessica. I'm on maternity leave," she added with a smile.

"I love you so much!" he said at the news that he wouldn't have to be involved in the wrath of Molly Weasley.

"We can tell everyone else tomorrow at Teddy's birthday party," she said.

"But we were going to wait until you got home to throw the party," Harry said. The waiter had returned with drinks.

"I talked to mum about it today. She said she could throw something together by tomorrow. We sent out Patronuses to tell everybody. That way we can tell everyone and actually have Teddy's party on his birthday," Ginny said, taking a swig of her Coke.

"Well you've had a busy morning," Harry observed.

"You're telling me!" she said.


	14. Hyperbole

**Hyperbole****: extravagant exaggeration (I'm going in the **_**lie**_** direction)**

**September 4, 2016**

"What do you mean you can't fly a broom?" Ally asked, her head tilted to the side. The two were walking to the Great Hall for lunch after a particularly horrible flying lesson from the aging Madam Hooch.

Louis had sat and watched as his fellow first year Gryffindors (and some first year Ravenclaws) hovered into the air and, with Madam Hooch's permission, some of them actually flew a couple of meters off of the ground. Louis did not participate because he had a note from his mother.

"I… err… I have a condition," Louis said, quickly trying to think of such a condition.

"Oh no! What's it called?" she asked. She looked remarkably like her father Neville when she was concerned.

"Um. We're not sure. I just get a ghastly nosebleed and I faint. Sometimes my tongue swells and occasionally I grow huge hives." Louis said. He had no intention of telling the girl he had been in like with since they were five that he was afraid of heights. But Louis's fear was not one of minor panic or of laughingly uncomfortable discomfort. His fear was one of fainting, loud outbursts and, just that one time, wet pants. This happened whenever he was above five feet off of sturdy ground. He could not look out of the Gryffindor common room windows. He could not sit on the second story balcony of his uncle's house. And he could not, Merlin help him, _could not_ fly a broom.

"Well that's horrible. I was looking forward to us playing Quidditch against each other," Ally said as she shrugged.

"Oh you're trying out next year?" Louis asked.

"Yup. My friend Nicole and I were going to try out together. Hopefully we'll get it."

At this point the two were in the Great Hall. Ally waved at her father at the head table and then walked to meet Nicole at the Ravenclaw table. Louis went to go sit with most of his family and friends at the Gryffindor table and he seriously considered trying out for the Gryffindor team the next year. Nah. He figured Ally would like him more if he was conscious with dry pants.

* * *

**By the way, her name is Allison Longbottom. Nickname: Ally. Not Al-eye, Al-lee**


	15. Funereal

**I had no intentions of making any more remotely sad chapters (lie). But just look at the word; I had like… no choice. Today's story (like two chapters ago) comes to you in three parts, excluding, the introduction. Happy reading.**

**Funereal****: pertaining to or suiting a funeral; gloomy; mournful**

**August 8, 2023**

The story was the same for most everybody. Their father/grandfather/great-grandfather/husband had died. He was a great man. He was funny, jovial even. He was stern when necessary but overall a loving, kindhearted father. He was an attentive husband and a wonderful friend. He was a lover of all people (even and especially Muggles).

But to three people Arthur was more than a Muggle-loving, attentive, kindhearted man.

**Albus-**

The seventeen-year old walked along the hills of Ottery St. Catchpole. The funeral had ended almost four hours ago and Al had left just before the remaining children lowered the casket into the hole in the ground. He had no urge to see that nor did he want to see his mother cry, which she so rarely did.

But as he watched his cousins and siblings sob, he felt that they didn't have a right to. Wasn't it James who always mocked Arthur's stories of Muggle coins and electrical sockets? Wasn't it Victoire who had avoided seeing their grandfather all during his final sickness? Wasn't it Rose who told him that the Muggle magic tricks (ones he had bought at George's shop) were tired?

And as the tears dropped from Al's own eyes, he felt the pain that he was supposed to feel, the pain he had a _right_ to feel. He was the one his grandfather had taught to play Wizard's Chess. They would play all day when his grandfather was sick during the summer. Arthur would frequently win but Albus occasionally snagged some victories. Although now that he thought back, Arthur was probably letting him win.

Albus smiled at the memories of Wizard's Chess. It wasn't really the fact that the game allowed them to hang out without much talking (Albus wasn't very good at talking). It was more the fact that Albus could teach his child how to play and when they asked how he learned, he could say his grandfather taught him.

**Ginny-**

She gripped Harry's hand like a vice. She was sure he was cutting off his circulation but he was a dear to say nothing. With her left hand she tapped her knee. She wasn't listening. The priest was saying something nice, pretty, and generic about her father that was probably a load of bullshit. 'He was loved.' 'He was nice.' 'He was a darn hard worker.'

She was sure the little priest said nothing about how Arthur's eyes twinkled whenever you told him a story about how you _almost_ got caught out of bed during a long night with friends at Hogwarts (out of Molly's earshot, of course). He didn't know that Arthur used to toss she and Ron biscuits before dinner when their stomachs were growling. He didn't know that Ginny used to sit on her father's lap, fingering his freckles. He would read to her and call her daddy's little girl. He would say, "You're my favorite daughter," to which she would reply, "I'm your only daughter," as she giggled and then he would laugh and say, "That changes nothing."

So when Ginny was offered a hand that wasn't Harry's, she realized that it was part of the ceremony where the children lower the casket into the ground. The hand belonged to Bill. He was helping her up and as she stood she realized that her knees didn't feel like holding her up, so it took Bill and Percy to get her over to the hole.

She found her wand in her hand, having no idea where it came from. She finally looked up at the coffin that was floating in midair over the hole. The six Weasley children held out their wands and the hovering charm broke and all six cast the levitating spell. They then went on to lower their wands and her father's body followed suit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her son, Albus walking into the distance, and she suddenly wished she could follow him. Four feet, five feet, and six feet under Arthur lay.

The casket hit the dirt with a small thud and a puff of unearthed dust was kicked up. She was still her daddy's little girl. She was still his favorite daughter. He was still her favorite father.

**Molly-**

She dressed slowly, pulling on the dress that she had worn the previous year to her brother-in-law's funeral. The dress was quite baggy on her because Molly had frequently forgotten to eat while taking care of Him. In fact, the last time she ate, **He** had almost forced her to eat a ladleful of vegetable soup, which she had prepared for Him. She was sure Bill or Ron would force feed her later on after the-.

She couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't say a lot of words these days, **His** name for example. She refused to say the 'f' word. The 'f' word was about to happen now in fact. She was staying in Ron's old room, the room farthest away from the room she and **He** had shared for, oh, so many years.

She slipped on the pearls that **He** had bought her for their fortieth year anniversary. She had only worn them a couple of times, to a couple of weddings and to that 'f' word last year, where she sat with **Him** and held **Him** as **He** cried. It was **His** brother who had died after all.

There was a knock on the door and before she could quite answer, Bill had opened it. She had to sit, as the sight of her son in his dress robes knocked Molly back to her wedding day. **He** had worn **His** uncle's dress robes, as they were too broke to afford a dress _and_ a set of robes. She shook her head and held her hand out, allowing Bill to take her out of the room, down the stairs, and into the back yard where the priest was in place and there were some friends sitting in front of a hole in the ground. **His** hole.


	16. Flibbertigibbet

**Flibbertigibbet****: a silly, flighty, or excessively talkative person**

**July 24, 1970**

"Dromeda, where did you say you were going?" Narcissa asked her older sister.

Andromeda rolled her eyes. Her sister asked _entirely _too many questions.

"Because if you were planning on going to Auntie Walburga's I'll stay home, but if you were going to a friend's house would you mind if I tagged along? With Bellatrix gone with Rodolphus, and Mummy's been quite moody lately-,"

"Cissa, can you breathe?" Andromeda asked her fair sister. She brushed a blond lock behind her sister's ear and kissed her on her cheek, "You can't come with me. In fact mummy and daddy mustn't know that I'm gone," she said.

Narcissa wondered what this clandestine outing was about but before she could ask, Andromeda asked, "Okay?"

Narcissa nodded, trusting her sister, "So what boy are you seeing?"

"Well aren't you perceptive?" Andromeda asked as she pulled on her cloak's hood.

The younger girl, again, decided nodding was the best way to go.

"I'm going to see Ted Tonks," Andromeda said after a moment of thought.

"The Mudblood?" Narcissa said a little to loudly. Her lip curled when she said the pejorative.

Andromeda winced, "Yes, the Muggle-born. We are seeing each other."

"Why do you like him, Dromeda? His younger brother is in the year ahead of me and he smells like soup, French onion soup at that. But Mum would be furious if she knew th-," Cissa was cut off.

"That's exactly why you cannot tell them anything," Andromeda said.

Narcissa nodded. She wouldn't. She mustn't. Andromeda kissed her little sister on the head again. She smiled, turned on her heel, and disappeared with a small 'POP'.

* * *

Andromeda 'POP'd back into her sister's room around two hours later. She smiled from ear to ear and she held her hand out. In the dim light of the moon, she saw the diamond glittering on her left ring finger. It was large but not too big. Ted's parents had had a nice Muggle business and he had inherited a large sum of money after his father's death.

Andromeda strode over to Narcissa's bed. She was asleep and Dromeda gently shook her awake.

"Cissy! He proposed," Andromeda said. Narcissa's eyes slowly fluttered open and she laid eyes on her sister. Then she shot up.

"Dromeda, I'm sorry! They came in demanding toknowwhereyouwereandIdidn'tknow-,"

"Cissy, calm down what's wrong?" Andromeda asked. A jet of red light shot past Andromeda's head and hit the wall just above her. Plaster rained over she and Narcissa and Andromeda shielded her sister while spinning around, wand out, to face no other than her mother.

"Your father did not want to lay his eyes on you, but I couldn't let you from the house without me confronting you. How dare you disgrace the Black family?"

Druella Black twisted her wand and a purple jet shot form it and Andromeda set up a shield charm that defended her (and her sister who stood behind her.)

"Cissa, how could you?" Dromeda asked. Just as Narcissa was about to speak, her mother drew her wand toward herself and the blond haired girl was ripped away from Andromeda and toward Druella.

"Don't speak to her child, she is no longer your sister," Druella addressed her youngest (and now second born) daughter.

"Mum," Andromeda began to plead, her tear strained cheeks wobbling with the effort to control her sobs. Her wand was still at the ready, not to fight, but to shield herself.

"I am no mother of yours. You are now a Mudblood, a lowly Squib who was unjustly granted magic and a wand," Druella said.

The sight was very strange for Narcissa. After all, Andromeda had always been the one who most resembled their mother, so all Narcissa saw, was a young and old Andromeda, wands aimed at one another. She looked into Andromeda's eyes, those eyes that were filled with fear, sadness, and, Narcissa knew, hurt from her own betrayal.

Druella sent one last curse at Andromeda, this one green and fiery. Andromeda's eyes grew wide and they locked with Narcissa's. She turned on the spot, the death curse hitting just above Narcissa's bed, sending more plaster and wallpaper into the air.

Druella stood there for a split second, fixed her curls of hair, as some of them had fallen out of place during the duel. She waved her wand at the mess and it all became right, bits of plaster shooting back into the wall and shredded wallpaper knitting back together.

"Mum, I-," Narcissa said as she walked toward her mother.

"You did fine telling me when you did, Narcissa. You and Bellatrix are my pride and joy," Druella said. Narcissa couldn't believe that was true, as she had said the same to Andromeda so many years ago. That made Narcissa think that if she were to violate one of the many rules on the infinitely long 'Black Family List of No-No's', she would be as unceremoniously ejected from he family as Andromeda had been.

She wanted to bring this point up, but all she could do was stare after her mother as she strode out of the room, head high and gait strong. Narcissa never really talked much afterward.


	17. Vet

**One more chapter today! I'm almost done. Yay me! After today I will be posting on schedule unless something gets in the way, in which case I will _definitely_ have catch-up days like this. So thanks for reading this chapter ****marathon!**

**Vet****: (1) to subject to thorough appraisal; to evaluate**** (2) to provide (a person) with medical care… The second definitions always appeal more.****  
**

**December 4, 2008**

"Huhmion-eeeeee," Ron called from the sofa. A wild haired Hermione Granger-Weasley stood from the kitchen table, laden in books, and stomped into the adjacent living room.

"Yes, Ronald?" she asked. She blew a fly away strand, even though most of them were fly away, and she stared at her husband. His nose matched his fiery hair and his eyes were puffy from a cold. There was slime dripping from his nose and he had a rag close to him at all times due to his constant sneezing. The hives on his neck had just gone down.

"I nee' somow PeppaUp Poshin," he said, stuffy nose hindering his speech.

"Ron, as the hives suggest, you had an allergic reaction to something in the potion," Hermione said as she looked through _A Witch's Guide to Common Maladies and Allergies_, whose title she found chauvinistic. She could certainly see why a wizard may very well want to know why his tongue was swelli-.

"Huhmione!" Ron yelled.

Hermione snapped out of her internal feminist monologue and focused on her husband, "Yes?"

"I was sayig dat I neber had dee reacshin when meh mum made it for meh," Ron fumbled.

"Some allergies emerge later in life," Hermione said, reciting memorized things from said sexist book.

"Well wut can I take?" Ron asked.

"I can get you some Muggle medicine. I'm pretty sure it's a Muggle cold so some decongestant should work or I could take you to my old doctor," Hermione figured. She was glad that she had sent Rose and Hugo off to the Burrow while their father was sick. The less sick Weasleys, the better.

"Nah, I want meh mum," Ron said. He tried to get up and Hermione slammed him back onto the couch.

"God, Ron, I love your mother but if she gives me one more tutorial in how to take care of her Ronniekins, I _will _curse you. Not _her,_ you!" Hermione's voice had reached the frequency that Ron had often called the danger zone. He stopped struggling and spoke nothing else of Molly Weasley.

"Now, I will make you some chicken noodle soup, some tea, and I will be back with a pot of steaming water and a towel. We're going to do this the Muggle way," Hermione said as she walked into the kitchen to play doctor for her husband. And not in the fun, kinky way.


	18. Acme

**Whew, that was funner than I thought it was going to be. And yes I looked it up; funner is a word. **

**Acme****: the highest point of something**

**September 1, 1956**

Despite his seventy-five years of age, Dumbledore couldn't help but jump for joy as he marched into his office. He was hilariously happy and he had no qualms about showing it.

"Oaf," he heard a portrait behind him say. Dumbledore turned to find a green-n-silver decked portrait of a man staring at him with disdain.

"Excuse me, sir?" Dumbledore said.

"I called you an oaf," he repeated, seemingly uninterested in the conversation already.

"And why so, sir?" Albus asked, trying his best to convey no disrespect.

"You call me sir, which is more than I can say of that Dippet," the man said. He had a mane of dark hair and sharp beard, which pointed downward. He had dark piercing eyes and Dumbledore suddenly knew who he was.

"You _are_ Phineas Nigellus Black are you not?" Dumbledore asked. He was giddy with excitement as he realized he could talk to former headmasters of the school and ask for their opinions.

"Yes and you are _still_ an oaf," Phineas concluded.

"I am merely happy about the opportunity to serve at this great school that I have loved since I started going here so long ago," Dumbledore said with a childlike innocence.

Phineas looked down his sloped nose at Dumbledore, "This will be one of the best times of your life if you don't let it drive you mad. The brats hated me and I eventually quit, but you, you can relate to the little monsters. Do that and you'll be fine. Good luck, oaf," the portrait then continued to look at Albus for another half-minute and he stood and walked out of frame, apparently to another of his portraits.

"This should be fun," Dumbledore said as he walked to his office door; he was ready to make his first speech as headmaster.


	19. Efface

**Efface****: to cause to disappear by rubbing out, striking out, etc. (Imagine 'etc.' being blasting off.) I've also put a 300-word limit on each section of this chapter. I **_**can**_** get long winded and I prefer not to. If anyone wants me to elaborate on one of the sections, comment or private message me. **

**August 2, 1869**

Ella Max Black sipped her sherry from her seat in the parlor of 12 Grimmauld Place. She sat in a claw foot lounging chair and stared at the tapestry that her husband, Cygnus, had put up when they had their first child. She stared at the names. Phineas Nigellus Black. Sirius Black. Elladora Black. Isla Black.

Ella scoffed at the last name, her youngest daughter. Ella put her glass up to her lips and found it empty. Suddenly filled with rage, she threw the crystalline glass at the wall, shattering it into millions of pieces. But this was not enough. She grasped her wand on the table and strode over to the tapestry. She reached the wall and put her wand on her daughter's face. "_Incendio!_" Yes. That felt better. It was as if she never existed.

**December 24, 1908**

Phineas Nigellus sat at the center of the head table. 'Black, Phineas' Old Man Dippet had called. The headmaster had sat up in his chair and watched as his son, the spitting image of himself, walked up to the stool and sit as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. Phineas had his eyes scrunched as he sat on the stool, as if he was about to cry. "RAVENCLAW!" the Hat yelled. Phineas's eyes opened slowly and he trudged to the Ravenclaw table. The students there did not clap, fearing punishment from their Headmaster. Phineas Nigellus did not leave his office for two whole days.

During the Christmas holidays of Phineas's last year of Hogwarts (and Phineas Nigellus's last Christmas as headmaster), Phineas Nigellus and his second oldest son, Sirius were having a heated conversation about whether Elves were superior to Muggles. The conversation ended in laughter and agreement that they were both horrible. Phineas couldn't hold his tongue anymore and after an even more heated argument, Phineas Disapparated. Phineas Nigellus burned all of his son's possessions and burned his face off of the tapestry, just as his mother had did his sister's.

**September 1, 1928**

Had you not been a Black, you would not have known Marius Black existed. In fact, some of the Blacks who were farther away from the mainline didn't even know he existed. Violetta Black made sure of the fact. It became increasingly unlikely that Marius would develop any amount of magic at all. Marius was born sickly, in fact, he did not cry when he was born. He was fair haired and pale and his eyes were blue. He was like a washed out version of what most Blacks looked like. He didn't walk until he was three and then he was very slow to run. So Violetta wasn't surprised when the summer of Marius's eleventh year came without a letter from Hogwarts. Pollux, Marius's older brother, went off to his second year of Hogwarts without his younger brother in tow as he was supposed to.

Violetta couldn't be angry, so she cried. She felt it was her fault she had given birth to an invalid, a handicap, and a fungus on the Black family tree. She drank herself into a stupor after she dropped Pollux off at King's Cross. She sat in a chair across from the tapestry, looking at the two burn marks already on the tree. She stood and walked rather slowly to the tree. She stared at her wand as she walked, thinking about what she was about to do. And she did it.

**July 1, 1934**

She had run off with that red haired weasel already. She had just graduated from Hogwarts two days before and she hadn't even come home. She threatened to leave that previous Christmas and Arcturus had not believed her, nor had he a reason to. Cedrella had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. She was only unhappy because he wouldn't allow her to see the Weasley boy and why would he? The Weasley's had once been a respectable family but as far back as Arcturus could remember, they had been no more than Mudbloods. They sympathized with Muggles and that Tobias Weasley had worked at the Ministry as the head of the new Muggles Relations division. His oldest son, Ronald, had worked as a House Elf liberator and they had gone down hill from there.

So what was Arcturus supposed to do when she came home to tell them that she had been proposed to on the side of Black Lake by no other than Septimus Weasley? She was so proud and strong and joyous about the engagement, she had announced it at 12 Grimmauld Place before aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Arcturus was startled that after their argument, she had walked with purpose into he parlor and blasted her own name off of the tree. She turned to face her family who had gathered in the parlor. She said some unpleasant words to her father and kissed her cousin Marius on the cheek. She then walked out of the house, never to be seen by her parents again.

**July 24, 1970 (see Chapter 16 for whole story)**

Druella had just dueled her second youngest daughter. She was furious, but she kept her composure as she walked into her bedroom. Cygnus was on the bed reading the _Prophet_ and he looked up to ask her how it went, but she was already sitting at the ancient desk that held an inkwell and a book of stationary. She wrote one simple sentence on the paper:

_Dear Walburga_,

_Please strike Andromeda from the tapestry, as I know you wouldn't mind cutting away the diseased parts of it. _

_Thank you,_

_Druella Rosier Black_

* * *

**I didn't want to get repetitive so I decided to stop with Andromeda. Sirius and Alphard were both blasted off also, but I'm sure I'll get around to them. GAH! I've been misusing Apparated/Disapparated (yes there's a difference . I'll use the right word from now on. **


	20. Stanch

**Another six-chapter weekend! Enjoy, kids.**

**Stanch****: to stop the flowing of; to check**

**August 3, 1981**

"James, I told you that he was too high off of the ground," Lily scolded.

James looked over his wife's shoulder as she gave their son a once-over. The baby's face was red from the crying he had just got done doing.

"The broomstick is only set to go so high for a reason," she said.

"He was bored with it," James said, it only went up a couple of inches.

"He's one! There's no need for him to be above the coffee table," she said. She found the source of the crying. The boy had a small cut just above his elbow, but despite it's tininess, it was bleeding more than Lily liked. She waved her wand and the bleeding stopped.

Harry stopped crying, and smiled, transitioning with in seconds. Lily couldn't help but smile.

"Now uncharm the broom you prick," Lily said.

"Already done, love," he said. He took his son and tossed him in the air and caught him, causing the dark haired infant to giggle incessantly.

"He's going to be a Quidditch player, this one," James said, tossing him up again.

"Yay, more injuries," Lily said.

"He'll be fine," James smiled.

Lily frowned at the thought of all the scrapes and sprains she would have to heal in the future as he grew up. Then she smiled, as long as he was having fun, a couple of scars couldn't be that bad.

* * *

**Full of sad foreshadowing, I know. Sorry, sorry. I'll be posting at least one more today and the rest tomorrow. Sorry for the wait!**


	21. Aggress

**Aggress****: to make an attack**

**July 14, 2023**

"You did what!?" Roxanne asked. Her voice was cautiously calm.

Fred was alert and he inched away from her.

"I only…"

"Only?" she said, "Only!"

"I only said that you fancied him," Fred said,

"You ONLY said that I FANCIED him!" she said. Her voice hadn't yet reached screaming quality but it was dangerously close.

"Yeah, it's no big deal," he said. He gripped his wand in his side pocket, ready to throw up a shield charm

"NO BIG DEAL!" the screaming had begun. First it was question-speaking, then it was screaming, and then it was cursing. Again, he had his wand ready.

"He was fine with it he laughed and..." that was the metaphorical straw that broke he camel's back.

Roxy swiped her wand and Fred was pushed back into the sofa. That's when he noticed his mom standing there watching.

"Mum!" Fred called, "Help!"

Angelina smiled and shook her head, "You shouldn't have told Jonathan that she likes him, son. Don't kill him, sweetie." His mother walked off.

Roxy raised her wand again and he blurted out, "HE LIKES YOU TOO!"

Roxy's demeanor changed. She quickly lowered her wand, "Really?"

"Merlin, yes! If you would've let me finish," he said. He brushed off his clothes, "Now he's going to try to kick my ass for telling you," Fred said as he walked out of the room, leaving Roxanne star stricken on the living room couch.


End file.
